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Monday, March 15, 2010

Laser? I Just Met Her.

It was a weird weekend. And not just because I spent part of it sitting in a room full of strangers wearing Saran Wrap underpants.

Or as I like to call it...Saturday.

Perhaps I should explain...

For a few years now, I've been thinking about getting laser hair removal for my most intimate of areas........my armpits. (Stop judging and let me know what your most intimate area is after 11 years of marriage. You have to get creative.)

Haters.

[Due to the sensitive nature of what I am sharing, the overuse of "air quotes" begins below. "Thanks."]

I'm actually referring to my "bikini area." I have been thinking about getting this lasered for a few years now and finally decided to go for it...in the blissfully ignorant way that I make most decisions that cost a lot of money and have the potential for extreme humiliation.

Turns out, this is no simple procedure...it is a process of six treatments over the course of a year. After filling out more paperwork than I had to complete at my house closing, I made an appointment for my first treatment.

Based on the suggestion of the "medspa" where I'm having this done, I arrived an hour early to go into a room and apply numbing cream to my "area" and then wrap the entire area in plastic wrap and sit in a lounge they call the "Sanctuary" while the numbing cream took effect. (This "medspa" offers a variety of services that you'd never want anyone to know you're having...such as Botox and laser liposuction. It conveniently shares a lobby with the Little Gym...so every time I go, there is a good chance I will see the parents of one of my daughter's playmates who can speculate on which narcissistic/insane treatment I'm electing to have.)

One interesting thing I noticed while sitting there was that the room in which I applied my numbing cream was right next door, and through the paper-thin walls, you could clearly hear any conversation between the numbing cream applicatee and the technician. As I tend to be overly chatty when I am uncomfortable or nervous, I recalled that when I was in there, I had asked the technician to repeat the procedure for creating Saran Wrap underpants and had also remarked, "Oh...so just like I do at home?" (I suppose they also heard the crickets chirping in the "Sanctuary.")

It felt like I was in the "Sanctuary" forever. And after a few women had cycled in and out, I finally turned on my cell phone to check the time and discovered that it was HALF AN HOUR after my appointment was to have taken place. I poked my head out of the "Sanctuary" door to look for someone and saw no one. So, in my robe, while holding up my Saran Wrap underpants and with a completely numb crotchal region, I began wandering the halls in search of anyone who could help, and found myself in the shared lobby. (And permanently off the play date list...)

They got me into a treatment room ASAP, which is when they really let me know who's boss, by TAKING A PICTURE of the "area to be treated" as a "before" photo. Honestly, this clinician had access to more than my husband did in our first five years of marriage.

The treatment itself took about ten minutes and was pretty painless. Or as painless as it could be while I was naked in a spread-eagle position on the table while wearing dark glasses to protect my eyes from the laser.

I'm sexy.

So, every two months for the next year, I have this to look forward to.

Well you really let it all hang out in this post. Congratulations for being brave enough to do so. I've always wondered about your kind. I bet you will never look at a box of plastic wrap the same again. Given your sanctuary experience I'm hoping you won't trigger post traumatic stress every time you pack up the leftovers or wrap Avery's sandwich for lunch. Another great blog post! Loved the "Sanctuary." I will resist my natural instinct to do what you warned me against in paragraph 4. As you may know from my fb profile info I don't care if my armpit and leg hair grow long. So you can imagine what other regions are like. It's not pretty. I have written a funny scene in a story about a bikini wax experience. I'll call it "realistic fiction" as some of it is based on my first (and last) trip to an esthetician. I went to great lengths to make sure I spelled that word correctly. Couldn't find it in my 1978 dictionary. Could it be that back then nobody had a need to spread hot wax on their pubic area and rip out the hair by its roots? Now we pay people to do it. Cool. Spell check doesn't recognize it either. But thanks to Google I now know how to spell it and I where I can attend school to learn this new art of pubic sculpting. I wonder if there's a special class in underwear construction.

I'll split the royalties with you...the guys over at Operation Iraqi Freedom and Operation Enduring Freedom are giving you a shout out.....pinups are so World War II...you're the screensaver of choice.

Anna - Please do not take this the wrong way, but the "medspa" may be able to do something about that she-stache. And I agree -- shame numbing cream could be a multi-million dollar idea. Though I suppose beer achieves the same result.

JenBC - You are a true business woman. We could also open another branch of Merkin's Cleaners in the same plaza...as those using the "medspa" services would very likely also need merkins at some point. Just a thought.

I think us ladies need medals for the shit we put up with in the name of grooming. Sadistic tiny women with a glint in their eye, tearing the hair off of your private areas with gusto, laser hair removal involving kama sutra positions or shaving with a haphazard blade that can leave your business looking like a chemo patient mid-treatment. We are just AWESOME.

And your experience sounded excruciating, yet very entertaining. You know, for US.

VA - I know. It seems ridiculous. But is also seems less tedious and ridiculous than shaving for the rest of my life...so we'll see. Glad you're entertained. You certainly entertain me a lot.

Straight Guy - I blame the lawyers. Mainly because I blame them for everything. I think that any time you're in a room with a laser, you have to wear the dumb glasses. What I mean is -- yes -- I have invented a new chapter of the Kama Sutra. I'm much more interesting now, aren't I?

The "experts" say that my "business area" hair is too blonde for laser removal. I'd actually have to get it dyed, then lasered. Imagine the looks I'd get in the salon. Extra-numbing shame cream for me, please!

Lovey - dinglyz - ha ha ha - should be your next band name. As opposed to danglyz - which should be your next porn name.

Dori - They mentioned that when I first went to learn about this procedure. If you have red, blonde, or gray hair (on your head) and the "carpet matches the drapes", then it may not work for you. Extra-numbing shame cream indeed. Holy crap.

MrClod - Have you no decency? I would never share such personal details. (ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha snort)

Yes, they do have something for the shame. I call it vodka. And it's funny you mentioned saran wrap panties 'cause that's what I like to wear when I'm swilling it from the bottle while watching Rock of Love re-runs.

Miss Spoken - You speak my language (re plastic panties, swilling from a bottle and watching Rock of Love). I really think I should package alcohol as "shame number" and see how it sells. Product re-positioning worked for "The Secret", after all.

Kiki -- Good to know that it will be worth it. (Did your nephew like that girlfriend better than you, too?)